Secret
by StarsAboveInMyEyes
Summary: It’s DADA class and the Third Years are tackling their worst fears. A certain Harry Potter’s Boggart, however, doesn’t exactly turn into what everyone had been expecting. In fact, it doesn’t turn into anything he had been expecting either ...


**Disclaimer**: The two italicised parts at the start were taken directly from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling and don't belong to me.

———

_'Riddikulus!' bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished. It rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry's feet. He raised his wand, ready, but -_

_Crack!_

The legless arachnid vanished in a hiss of black smoke that feathered above him. It billowed and converged, merging to form the figure of a child, standing meekly in front of Harry and eyeing him warily. He wore crooked and heavily taped round glasses, with a mop of untidy ink black hair sitting atop his head. The boy's face was pale and slightly gaunt as he looked up at him, baggy clothes hanging off his thin frame and a shadow covering his brilliant green eyes. The seconds couldn't tick by more slowly as Harry stood confused and surprised at the front of the class, unable to think as the small boy appraised him in a manner that was uncannily similar to himself. Why would he be scared of himself as a child?

The class seemed to be asking the same question among themselves, murmuring behind cupped hands as he stared at the boy who was, without a shadow of a doubt, a younger version of their classmate, perhaps five or six years of age. Professor Lupin however, had stiffened in his position at the front of his desk, expression puzzled and forehead creased with worry.

"Um- Harry-" he began, reaching out for the thirteen year old version of the two, but was cut off when the Boggart spoke for the first time since the resonating _crack_ had revealed Harry's supposedly worst fear.

"You know it's your fault, right?" The words were spoken quietly but rang in the classroom, hitting every wall and echoing accusingly in the suddenly thin air. Harry stilled. His fault? What was his fault? The class looked back and forth between the two as if expecting one of them to blurt the answer.

"What they do to me," the seven year old spoke again, each word tying a knot with Harry's heartstrings. "I'm _you_, after all, and you can't deny it." he stated, observing the older boy in too sinister a fashion for a child.

Harry's feet remained glued to the floor, whereas his younger self rocked playfully on his heels. Ron and Hermione were still as statues near the wall, looking both anxious and bewildered as they watched their best friend.

"You don't like me much, do you?" the boy asked and Harry's mouth remained shut, unable to answer. His younger self only nodded as if the silence was confirmation enough before slowly grinning at him. It was the smile that rooted Harry in place, and the class watched frantically as the child version of their classmate took a step forward and looked Harry piercingly in the eye, now smiling broadly.

Harry's mind was muddled; the only thing he was aware of was the way his fists clenched so tightly he was sure blood was oozing from where his nails pressed the skin of his palm. He realised that it was the same smile that he'd often worn as a kid, when he would finish the chores early and, in the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs, relish the chocolate bar that he'd nicked from Dudley's stash in his second bedroom, exceptionally glad at how lucky he'd gotten that day. His eyes would crinkle exactly like that when, on good mornings while everyone else was still asleep, he'd look in the bathroom mirror and successfully flatten his hair (if only for half a minute) with water before going down to make breakfast for the Dursleys. It was also the smile he'd struggled to wear on the night of his seventh birthday, trying to ignore the pang of resentment and hunger in his gut when he hadn't received any wishes, let alone presents.

The only thing missing, he realised, was the innocent twinkle, a glimmer of hope that maybe, someday, he'd wake up and his aunt and uncle would love him like they did Dudley and their car and their house, and he'd be happy with them for once. The thought almost made him laugh despite the dread pooling in his lungs and the way his heart thumped desperately in his chest, and he felt a flicker at the corners of his mouth. Then he saw that seven-year old Harry was grinning even wider now, a deadly glint in his green eyes, and smothered the brief show of amusement.

"It's almost funny, huh?" the thin boy whispered, hands clasped behind his back as he scanned his older self. "You wanted it, didn't you? You _hoped_ for it." He giggled at the absurdity of the idea. "You thought that maybe, if you did all the chores and stayed quiet in the little cupboard and got good grades, they'd _love_ you?" The boy took a step forward, Harry took one back, trying to ignore the sudden weight that'd dropped in his stomach.

"Did you really think they'd someday grow to _care for you?_" Harry felt needles jab at him on the last part, wounds that he'd thought were healed slicing open again. A whirlpool of anger and resentment brewed inside him but it was overshadowed by dread. "Did you actually believe they'd appreciate all the work you did, when they didn't even think twice before shoving you in that cupboard like an old coat?" Little-Harry's smile had gone now, and he glared at him with cold fury burning in his gaze, an inferno of rage fighting inside his irises.

'_Riddikulus!_' Harry thought angrily but the voice inside his head was shaky. He tried to glare at the Boggart, to tell it that it was wrong but he couldn't, and a deep and empty well of misery ran through him. '_Say it!'_

"What do you think people will say when they find out that famous Harry Potter blew up his dear Aunt Marge when he got mad, but could only scamper every time his cousin and his gang tried to hit him?

"What will they say when they find out the Boy-Who-Lived could hardly gather the courage to ask his Aunt if his parents really _had_ been drunkards and scoundrels?" Everyone around him gasped, Professor Lupin looked outraged.

Harry said nothing. A voice inside his head told him that it wasn't true, that he had always done much more than run whenever Dudley and his gang tried to get him, but he realised that a sarcastic remark and bolting away hardly equated to standing up for himself. As for his parents, what choice had he had but to believe his relatives' version of events? He hadn't even known much about them beside their names at that time.

"What do you think the wizarding world will say when they realise that Harry Potter didn't have more than seven full meals during the decade after his parents' deaths?"

The room went eerily quiet at that and Harry screwed his eyes shut, remembering the pain of hunger and sneaking out to steal leftovers when the house was dark and his relatives asleep, a sharp panic coating his insides.

"It's _your_ fault, you know," Harry's younger self accused and he stumbled back, only now paying attention to the way his classmates hungrily took in the Boggart's words, wide-eyed with curiosity and a sick, horrified kind of fascination. He found himself glaring at them when it spoke again. "It's _your_ fault no one believes me. It's _your_ fault they even hate me!" the small boy was yelling now, getting louder and louder with every step he took toward Harry. "It's _your_ fault they starve me for days and lock me in the cupboard for weeks!"

His anger dissolved as it made way for the cold exposure that vulnerability brought. Harry felt himself turning red, flushed with embarrassment, hatred, and guilt, fogging his brain and clogging his arteries as he glared at his feet and tried to breathe -

He was knocked back as a yell ripped through the air. "_Riddikulus!_" Lupin exclaimed, raising his wand as he stepped between Harry and the Boggart. The fuming boy turned into a gleaming silver orb before vanishing in a puff of smoke. Harry fell backward and tripped on the hem of his robes but Ron caught him, Hermione reaching out to place a firm hand on his shoulder as he inhaled sharply and forced himself to stop shaking.

He was looking anywhere but at the people in the stifling hot room, searching the floor for the way to the exit. His eyes locked on the gap between the ground and the door and he pulled away from Ron and Hermione, pushing past Professor Lupin as he yanked it open and stepped outside. Harry restrained from slamming it in his growing panic and frustration and calmly walked down the hall, waiting till he was sure he was well out of earshot of the classroom's occupants before breaking into a run, bolting to Gryffindor Tower as fast as his legs would allow.

In less than a minute, he was bent double in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, clutching the wall for support as he heaved for air.

"Pumpkin patch," he wheezed tonelessly and the portrait swung open, revealing the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Hardly waiting to catch his breath, Harry rushed to the boys' dormitories. Taking two steps at a time, he clambered unceremoniously into his dorm room and pulled open his trunk, grabbing the Invisibility Cloak and draping it over himself as he made his way outside again. There were still four minutes left till the bell rang and, if he hurried, he could find an empty classroom without having to deal with anyone on the way.

Making up his mind, Harry trudged across the hallways and reached the corridor where he'd found Mrs. Norris' petrified form a year ago, wondering if Moaning Myrtle would notice her bathroom door swinging inconspicuously open and close through her wailing. The chances were slim, he decided, and so continued walking in his search for a deserted classroom where he could gather his thoughts.

———

"Any luck?" The question was out of his mouth before Hermione could even step out of the portrait hole.

"No," she said, landing defeatedly on the Common Room floor. "Snape caught me and sent me back -" Ron let loose a curse at that. "- but between the two of us, I think there isn't a single place in the castle that we haven't checked," she finished, ignoring her friend's profanity toward the obnoxious Potions Master in her worry. Ron opened his mouth to protest but Hermione cut across him. "Ron, it's thirty minutes to curfew. He's bound to turn up soon enough." Ron thought she didn't sound so sure.

"Half an hour to curfew is no reason to return to the confines of the Tower, Hermione," a voice interrupted them as the portrait swung open yet again and two people hopped in.

"We thought you'd already know that by now," an identical voice followed it. "Especially given your yearly bouts of -"

"Midnight excursions, -"

"Nightly strolls to the grounds, -"

"Illegal potion-brewing, -"

"Life threatening adventures, -"

"Sneaking into the Forbidden Forest, -"

"And other such detention warranting activities." Fred and George snickered. Ron and Hermione glared at them.

"So, where's Ickle Harrikins gone to?" They asked at the same time, looking thoughtfully under the carpet and behind cushions as if expecting him to jump out at any moment.

"First off, that's very ironic, coming from you two," Hermione rambled in a defensive voice. Ron grunted.

"Secondly, don't act like you haven't heard the rumours. No one but the Fat Lady's seen Harry since DADA this morning."

"Ahhh," the twins sighed, exchanging grave facial expressions with each other. "We've heard the rumours, alright," they informed them. "Just didn't want to believe them."

Ron nodded miserably. The Boggart had been one thing, particularly because he hadn't seen the signs in Harry after two years of both knowing and living with him, but having him vanish off the Hogwarts premises was an entirely different matter. He worried if Harry had simply snuck off to a bathroom stall or deserted classroom under his Invisibility Cloak or if the situation was a lot more sinister than they'd initially thought, what with Sirius Black on the loose...

He shook his head, forcing the thought from his anxiety-riddled mind. Hermione wrapped an arm around his slumped shoulders as Fred and George muttered something about uncaging a Grindylow in the Prefects' bathroom and left for their dorm room. It was a while before either of them spoke again.

"How did we not see it?" Ron had refrained from thinking about this question all day, unable to handle feeling such unadulterated and strong guilt at his obliviousness.

"I don't know, Ron," Hermione admitted. It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that she didn't hesitate before confessing her own lack of answers. "He's always so reserved," she bit her lip.

"That's it, isn't it?" Ron turned to her. "He's secretive and we're easily distracted," he murmured dejectedly.

"There's some kind of trouble every school year and we forget all about, well, everything else."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that so she stayed quiet, pondering if things could've been different had she paid more attention to her friend instead of homework or their next life-endangering quest.

———

"Right here, Gred," George pointed at the branching map that lay unfolded on his bed. "Three doors off the right of Charms."

"Cheers," Fred replied, not sounding cheery at all as he too, spotted the dot labelled 'Harry Potter' in the location George had described. "D'you think he's alright?" he asked his brother guiltily.

"Dunno," came the answer and then - "Mischief Managed," as George tapped the Map with his wand and it turned blank, thinking solemnly that it had only just begun. He placed it gingerly in his pocket and turned to his twin. "Lets get going, shall we?" The two exchanged shifty looks before performing Disillusionment Charms on themselves and sneaking outside, passing a nervous Neville Longbottom in a chair by the fire as he struggled to finish a Potions essay for Snape.

"Reckon we should tell him it's a variety of 'reeds' and not 'weed' which are needed for the Startling Solution?" George whispered as they exited the Common Room. Neville didn't even glance in their direction when the portrait hole opened of its own accord, too distracted by Trevor making another attempt at escape to notice them. A faint _plonk_ was heard as the toad slipped from his hands and into his cup of warm honeyed milk.

"Nah, he doesn't need to hear disembodied voices helping him out with homework. Poor chap's probably already stressed out with dressing Snape in his Grandma's clothes," Fred replied. "Hey, you up for a bet?" he added distractedly as they made their way to the East Tower. "Thirteen Sickles Snape will have him in detention next Potions lesson?"George grinned. "Twenty-three if he'll manage to dock forty points by the end of that lesson."

"Deal." They exchanged the money.

"Right," George mumbled as they arrived in the corridor the Charms Classroom was in. They made to soundlessly walk down it when - out of nowhere - a man dressed in black robes and sporting greasy hair of the same colour appeared ahead of them.

"Speak of the devil," Fred cursed as they slid back against the wall, quickly casting Notice-Me-Not Charms on themselves. The Potions Master swaggered round the corner and they smirked, invisible to each other but knowing very well what the other was thinking.

George plucked a hair from his head and Transfigured it into a long and sturdy rope. He shoved the other end in Fred's hand and the two held it tautly an inch above the ground on each side of the hallway. Snape tripped over the Disillusioned rope and fell, crashing face first to the ground.

Fred suppressed a snicker, hushedly Vanishing the rope in the din as Snape untangled himself from his robes and narrowed his eyes furiously around him, hissing some _very_ unsightly garments that Merlin may or may not have owned that they were bound to reference later in class.

"That's what you get for being a student's Boggart, you greasy git," Fred (quietly) high-fived his twin as the bat-like Professor limped away, dusting his robes and cursing whatever wretched stars he had been born under.

"Now, back to business," the two agreed and reached the third door to the right of the Charms Classroom, rubbing their hands together. They checked the Marauders' Map again and found that Harry's dot hadn't moved from its position beyond the door and, anticipation brimming inside them, thrust it open.

_Creak._ The door whined. George shot a kick at it.

Although the classroom appeared to be empty, they knew that Harry was around here somewhere; the Map never lied. They watched as two dots labelled 'George Weasley' and 'Fred Weasley' tardily got closer and closer to the one coined 'Harry Potter', and George couldn't help but think how suspenseful the whole ordeal was.

"Y'know, kind brother, I always thought my dot looked better than yours," he whispered, trying to ease a bit of tension. He wondered if Harry had fallen asleep or was watching them under the Cloak with that exasperated expression he got whenever they tried to prank him.

"Alas, Forge, I always thought quite the opposite. My dot obviously surpasses yours in beauty," Fred answered, feigning offence.

"Dear me, Gred - your pride ashames me."

"And of your vanity, I could say the same."

"_Y'know_, the least you could do was come up with better code names, _Gred_ and _Forge_," a third voice said. The twins jumped as Harry materialised in front of them, a watery grey cloth that could only be an Invisibility Cloak bundled up in his hands.

"Hi," they chorused, beaming at the scrawny boy sitting on the desk before realising he couldn't see them and undoing their Disillusionment Charms. Harry shook his head and sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands as he dangled his legs above the ground.

"You shouldn't have come," he muttered after a beat, an unwelcome shadow passing over his downcast eyes. Fred and George exchanged glances.

"What's that supposed to mean? Romione have been looking all over for you," Fred told him.

"Yeah, mate. They're really worried," George supplied.

"Romione?" Harry asked before shaking his head. "Never mind. Tell Ron and Hermione I'm fine. Just need some time on my own."

"Harry, mate, I dunno if you noticed but you've been here for the past six hours," George reminded him. The boy only nodded in response and resumed staring downheartedly at the floor, making them realise that he probably wasn't in the mood to talk to his friends yet. They sighed internally like the old lions they knew they'd someday become (after cursing Death Eaters to wobble down every staircase at Hogwarts in a lethal battle, of course) and folded up the Marauders' Map. Deciding proudly that they were definitely well past curfew, they sat on either side of their little brother's best friend who had, surprisingly, managed to hole his way into their just-about-big-enough-hearts as another brother whom they needed to watch over. Fred patted Harry on the back and he looked up, eyeing him questioningly.

"What say you we go on a little trip, Ickle Harrikins?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. The ghosts of the twins' smiles were resurrected and they slid off the desks, bringing Harry tumbling along with them.

———

The twins plopped onto the floor as the Fat Lady's portrait closed behind them.

"C'mon, Ickle Harrikins, we're going flying," Fred grinned at seemingly thin air, but he knew that a Disillusioned Harry Potter stood a few steps away from him and tried to swing his arm around him.

"I'm on your right, Fred," a disembodied voice told him and he changed tact, still beaming.

"Shouldn't you two be invisible too? And where're all the prefects?" the voice added.

"Nah," George replied. "But we won't be visible for too long either." He ignored Harry's second question and undid the Disillusionment Charm the boy had insisted they place on him when they'd left to fetch their brooms and place Harry's Invisibility Cloak in his dorm room (they'd actually draped it over Ron's sleeping form in the Common Room but decided not to mention it). Meanwhile, Fred pulled something out of his pocket and gave it to Harry, who held it in his palm.

Harry squinted at it for a second before realising that it was a tiny Nimbus 2000. He scowled, about to tell the twins that it wasn't funny when he looked up and saw that they were gone.

"Hey, wher-" he started when a faint screeching met his ears, rather like how one would expect an army of a thousand ants to shout if they could. He looked down. The twins were waving and yelling at him from the floor, each of them about the height of half a toothpick.

Harry grinned, startled as the two mounted their brooms and began flying round his head. He resisted the urge to swat at them and performed a Shrinking Charm on himself as well. The hallway seemed to enlarge around him until he was just a few centimetres tall, surrounded by pieces of lint and dust. He mounted his broom and kicked off the ground, speeding to catch up with the twins as they streaked down the corridor.

"Race you to North Tower!" Fred yelled, smiling broadly, whizzing around a lamp before shooting off in the distance.

"You're on!" George thundered back and the trio sped off, whooping through the halls of Hogwarts castle.

———

Author's Note: I've had an idea of this sort ever since I re-read POA all those years ago. So I wrote this a few months ago and ... forgot about it. Anyway, this is just an AU one-shot but it's 'up for adoption' if anyone wants to continue it further. The one-shot will still be available here but the person's story will most definitely be mentioned. PM me if you'd like to take up on it. It's cool if more than one person is willing to do so as well.


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